Chapter 668: This is Fun
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 668: This is Fun
"Alright, who wants to die today?"
Rem was pouring his soul into training his squad members, as usual. To an outsider, however, it looked like pure, unadulterated abuse.
He would pick his men one by one and force them into grueling spars or lopsided multi-on-one battles. In those group fights, the men were required to hold their ground against three opponents of similar skill. Naturally, they considered this a mercy compared to facing Rem himself.
Despite Rem's blatant provocation, none of the squad members opened their mouths. Instead, they radiated a fierce determination, looking ready to beat to death anyone who dared to challenge them. Even those who used to grumble and complain now held their tongues.
They had finally realized a fundamental truth: if they rebelled, they would just get beaten to a pulp and still be forced to finish the training anyway.
Sly bastards.
Rem pushed them even harder. His philosophy was simple: the more they suffered in training, the better they would fight in real combat.
Having been pushed to the brink of death by Rem's axe during drills, the men were far more composed when facing actual monsters. Under the Soldier Mercenary System, they fought with savage efficiency, clearing out packs of monsters and demonic beasts outside the city with ease.
Moreover, they weren't just skilled killers.
None of the squad members harassed the women of the territory, nor did they engage in looting. They didn't even demand free meals at the local taverns. Though they certainly didn't look the part, it was rare to find a unit stationed in the territory that was so reliable and well-mannered.
Naturally, Rem's reputation grew with each passing day. Everyone knew them as Rem's Assault Squad.
Thanks to this, even some of the nobles in the southern part of the kingdom had begun to look upon Rem with less distaste lately. Not that anyone who actually met Rem in person would ever approach him warmly, of course.
Rem had been deeply engrossed in his own personal training for a while, but lately, he was back to tormenting his men at the Assault Squad's training ground.
Crunch, crunch.
The sound of careless footsteps reached his ears. The newcomer clearly had no intention of hiding. He approached openly, radiating a grating aura that announced his presence long before he arrived.
"Are you the Noble Killer? Seeing that gray head of yours, it must be. You've got a rough face, too."
The stranger trudged closer as he spoke. Rem's training ground was located at the foot of the Pen-Hanil Mountain Range. Although there was a formal training ground available, they preferred the rugged terrain of the mountains.
Because of this, packs of monsters or demonic beasts that the local outposts couldn't handle rarely made it down to the lowlands. The arrangement had started at Krais's request, but Rem had judged it to be an excellent training spot.
"Monsters and demonic beasts come down all the time? Perfect."
That was all the convincing he had needed.
The owner of those irritating footsteps had descended from the Pen-Hanil peaks. He held a drawn sword in his hand, the blade stained with black blood.
Having sensed the man's aura long before his arrival, Rem had already stood up and taken a seat on the steps leading to the side of the wooden platform. The makeshift steps creaked under Rem's weight as he leaned back. Without even drawing his axe, he rested one arm on the step in a posture arrogant enough to offend anyone.
"What kind of worthless chaff just rolled in here?"
"Chaff? If you're talking to me, you die today," the man replied instantly.
His armor was thin but boasted a luxurious finish, and the sword in his hand was clearly no ordinary weapon. He looked like a noble, though his fierce aura was incredibly ominous for a man of high birth.
"Is this guy out of his mind?" one of the squad members muttered. He was a man with a deep scar under his eye—a former mercenary once known as the "Crazy Axe." Though he was considered relatively mild-tempered now, that was only because of the company he kept.
"Hey, beat it if you don't want to die. Shoo, shoo," another senior squad member said, waving his hand dismissively. They all knew there was nothing to gain from provoking Rem's temper.
"Do you even know who you're talking to? Do you think this is some kind of suicide hotspot?"
As they threw in their two cents, one of the kinder-hearted squad members took a step forward.
"Just go. If you mess around here, you'll actually die. Go find the Divine Infantry instead. At least they won't kill you."
In the Divine Infantry, they might catch you and force you into some sort of "holy exercise," like walking with heavy rocks on your back, but they wouldn't kill you. But here? Rem's squad members were rough. They were not the type to back down from a fight.
Without warning, the stranger swung his blood-stained sword. Even Rem didn't react until the blade began to trace its arc. That was how completely devoid of preparatory movement the strike was.
"Get down!"
Whoosh!
Rem's shout erupted simultaneously with the sound of tearing air. It was a voice engraved into the squad members' very bones through relentless training. The soldier reflexively tensed his core. During multi-on-one battles, Rem would occasionally bark advice, and if they failed to heed it instantly, they ended up severely injured.
Thanks to that conditioning, they reacted to Rem's words with absolute obedience. The squad member threw himself backward to dodge—practically falling flat on his back. He had followed the command to the letter.
Clang!
The source of the tearing sound was Rem's axe. The hand axe, slicing through the air, met the opponent's blade right where the squad member's chest had been a split second ago, unleashing a metallic shriek.
Though Rem had only thrown a hand axe rather than his main weapon, throwing whatever he could get his hands on was his specialty. Yet, the opponent had casually deflected it with a single swing.
What's more, the original purpose of that sword strike had been to slash the soldier. This meant the stranger had seen the trajectory of the thrown axe and altered the direction of his swing mid-strike to deflect it. Even so, his posture remained undisturbed, and he showed no sign of surprise.
"Just who the hell are you?" Rem asked, taking giant strides forward. He had already leaped up from the steps, closing the distance in an instant.
The swordsman struck again without warning, aiming a downward slash at Rem's head. Rem responded with a similar axe strike. One came from above, the other from below, as the two weapons crossed paths.
Clang! Screeech!
Sparks flew as axe and sword locked. Both tried to deflect and push the other's weapon away, but they ended up grinding against each other before bouncing off to the sides.
Rem tensed his thighs to absorb the impact and swung his axe once more. His arm whipped out, and the axe blade flew like a streak of light. It was an attack comparable to Encrid's Will-infused slashes, rupturing the air.
Boom!
The axe moved as if teleporting, slicing through the opponent's head. The swordsman's head split open—but no blood sprayed. It was an afterimage.
The swordsman had stepped back with his right foot and lowered his stance to evade the axe. To an untrained eye, it might have looked like a narrow escape born of sheer luck.
Luck, my ass.
Rem knew the opponent had dodged with absolute intent. It was a gap created by splitting time. The stranger thrust his sword forward even as he evaded.
Oh?
Rem was inwardly surprised. The opponent's judgment was incredibly precise. Having dodged perfectly, one might expect him to attempt a massive counterattack, but instead, he gripped the sword near the ricasso with his left hand and executed a thrust along the most optimal path.
It was a half-swording thrust. A basic technique, but when used correctly, it was exceptionally lethal.
I won't be able to take him down in one go.
Rem kicked out with his left foot. He intended to watch the thrust with absolute focus until the very last moment, then simply tilt his head to avoid it. Seeing this, the opponent aborted the thrust and dodged Rem's kick.
With a light tap of his feet, the man retreated and raised his sword, tip pointing upward. He had already shifted to a two-handed grip. Rem lifted his axe and rested it on his shoulder. Their ready stances were in stark contrast.
"Tsk. Where did a guy like this crawl out from?" Rem muttered. The opponent's stance was incredibly irritating for some reason. It felt strangely familiar, almost like someone he knew.
The swordsman had brown hair and brown eyes. His gaze was like a tranquil lake, but his aura was like a torrential downpour. He was an intriguing fellow.
"Why do you care?" the man asked.
"I don't actually give a shit, you bastard," Rem replied.
And he had a very irritating way of speaking, too. Rem never minced his words, especially not with a stranger who used such an obnoxious stance.
The swordsman stepped forward with his right foot, shifting his center of gravity. His determination to stake everything on a single blow naturally translated into Will. Even without actively using Intimidation, his sword strike exerted a heavy pressure on Rem. It was a feat shown only by those who had mastered the Heavy Sword Style to its absolute limit.
Rem thought to himself: So what?
His axe hummed, its blade vibrating. He was going to blow away whatever half-baked trick his opponent was trying to pull.
And that was exactly what he did.
As the pressure-laden blade descended, Rem swung his axe upward. Channeling power from his toes all the way up to his waist, he unleashed his sorcery power. The technique he had dubbed the Heart of Monstrous Strength integrated naturally into his movements, and the condensation of power he had demonstrated with Giant Cleaving flowed effortlessly into his axe.
BOOM!
Along with a deafening roar, a shockwave rippled outward as if a meteor had struck the earth.
"Holy shit. Monsters, the lot of them," one of the squad members muttered. Everyone was thinking the exact same thing.
Rem hadn't killed his opponent. Instead, he held his axe resting right on the crown of the man's head. To be precise, he had tilted the angle of his axe to deflect half the force of the incoming strike, absorbed the other half with his body, and then slammed his left fist into the flat of the blade. In the opening that followed, he swept the man's leg to break his balance.
These were all skills he had honed while fighting that bastard Ragna after Encrid had left.
The final touch was resting his axe on the crown of the off-balance man's head. With a knight's strength and skill, there was no need to swing; even a slight drag of the blade would split a skull open.
The challenger was down on one knee. Blood trickled down from beneath his tattered pauldrons.
"I'm going to ask you something, so you'd better answer carefully."
The killing intent laced in Rem's voice was no joke. It was of a completely different color than the playful malice he showed during training. If his usual killing intent was like a sun slowly rising, this was the sun beating down at high noon. It was that vivid. True to his word, if the answer was wrong, he would slice.
"What's your connection to that directionally challenged bastard?" Rem asked.
*
While Rem was fighting, Audin was also facing someone.
The man had blonde hair, blue eyes, an angular jaw, and a fairly large build—though, of course, he was nothing compared to Audin's own massive frame.
"I came to meet someone," the blonde man said.
Audin thought about asking how he had gotten in, but decided against it. Whether he had snuck in or walked straight through the front, the guards wouldn't have been able to stop him anyway.
Luagarne rolled her large eyes right beside Audin. "Where did a person like this come from?"
Her Talent-Reading Eye was an excellent ability for gauging an opponent's level.
I can't see it clearly.
She had watched Encrid's growth closely over a long period, so she could easily see his limits. But for others—especially those at the level of a knight—even her eye couldn't perceive their boundaries. Luagarne used that as a benchmark to estimate the opponent's strength.
He was at least a knight.
"I heard he was here, but I didn't know if it was true or not." The stranger seemed to choose his words carefully, never quite finishing his sentences properly.
Audin greeted him with a gentle smile. "It would be proper to introduce yourself first, brother."
The blonde man remained indifferent even after looking at Audin. He hadn't made a move, but Audin's sharp intuition told him the man was ready to draw his sword at any second. Naturally, Audin also took his stance.
Spreading his feet wide, he let his hands hang loose. His merciless grip, capable of snapping and crushing anything it caught, was ready to strike at a moment's notice.
"So, what I want to ask is... well, to be precise, I want to ask for your name. Are you Encrid?" the blonde man asked abruptly.
Watching from behind, Ropode and Pel wondered what kind of lunatic this guy was. In these parts, Encrid was the Demon Slayer, the guardian of the Border Guard, and the one who had ended the civil war. There wasn't a soul who hadn't heard the rumors that he had black hair, blue eyes, and a face capable of charming women of every race.
"Does that face look like a heartbreaker to you? Seriously, where? Just look at him. How could he break any hearts?" Pel blurted out whatever came to mind. Whether the nickname was "heartbreaker" or "heart slayer" didn't matter to him; it wasn't his nickname anyway.
Audin was actually quite satisfied with his own face, so hearing such remarks left him utterly bewildered.
"...Brother Pel?"
"I'm just stating facts," Pel muttered, avoiding his gaze.
"He's right," Teresa, who was also present, immediately agreed. "Absolutely not."
By emphasizing it, she did her absolute best to ensure there was no misunderstanding.
"Sister Teresa?"
"I am simply helping to prevent any confusion."
So this is your idea of helping? Audin's eyes said.
"Where did this punk roll in from, not even recognizing our commander? This man might not break hearts, but he tears people in half as a hobby. Watch your mouth. Your words have displeased Sir Audin," Ropode added.
"So, I have a hobby of tearing people in half now?"
"Ah. Was that not it? The men in the Divine Infantry always warn each other to be careful, saying their bodies might get torn apart if they make a mistake."
Is there something wrong with our training methods? Audin briefly reflected on his past actions. It was probably because the training intensity was too light. Proper training should leave no room for idle thoughts.
The blonde man blinked a few times. He hadn't heard of such a nickname. However, he could tell one thing for sure: this bear-like man was no pushover.
"Well, that's not really important anyway," the man said. A new emotion surfaced on his face, replacing his relaxed demeanor. It was anticipation and excitement. "Let's fight."
Audin knew the opponent would strike even before the words left his mouth. The man's aura surged first.
The sword fell, slicing through space, as golden sand gathered and condensed around Audin's hands. Armor formed of concentrated divine power blocked the opponent's blade.
Clang!
The divine power imbued in his gauntlets clashed with the Will coating the opponent's blade before they parted. Out of habit, Audin used Holy Penetration, but the opponent neutralized it by retreating immediately after the clash.
He wielded a typical one-handed sword, but judging by its bluish-white blade and its sheer density, it was no ordinary weapon.
A seasoned fighter.
Audin assessed the man's nature. He was highly skilled, possessing techniques forged in real combat. The opponent also measured Audin's strength.
Tearing people in half as a hobby might not be a lie after all.
Given the crushing grip and the masterful techniques he felt, it was entirely plausible. Just a moment ago, the giant had tried to grab his blade and snap it. Realizing this, the swordsman had pulled his weapon back just in time.
"This is fun," the man said.
Audin caught a familiar scent from him. It was as if a knockoff of Encrid and a knockoff of Ragna had been mixed together and sent here.
"My name is Odinkar Zaun."
"Audin Pumrei. I wield divine power."
"Let's have some fun."
Zaun. It was the same surname as Ragna's. The man who introduced himself as Odinkar raised his sword. A faint light shimmered over the blade—a phenomenon caused by the condensation of Will.
A Will of a different caliber. This man, too, was a genius who had transcended a certain wall.